


A Light Stabbing

by musicalsmarvelandmore



Series: Newsies (Mostly Sprace) One Shots [5]
Category: Newsies - All Media Types
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Light Angst, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:21:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24931462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicalsmarvelandmore/pseuds/musicalsmarvelandmore
Summary: Spot is in Brooklyn lodging when he finds out that Race was stabbed on his turf.
Relationships: Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins
Series: Newsies (Mostly Sprace) One Shots [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1593484
Comments: 3
Kudos: 49





	A Light Stabbing

Spot was sitting in Brooklyn lodging, going about his normal business as the king of Brooklyn. It was actually fairly relaxing, for once, but of course, things could never stay that way.

He looked up as the door slammed open, a heavily panting boy standing on the other side of it, gasping for air as he rushed towards Spot.

It wasn’t uncommon that there were emergencies in the world of the Brooklyn newsies, but that didn’t make each one any easier.

Spot put up his hands, stopping the boy from getting any closer. It was one of his boys, which was definitely a bonus. Fish was still breathing hard, almost wheezing. Spot waited for him to catch his breath so he could figure out what was going on, but he couldn’t stop the surge of energy shooting through him. He was ready for a fight, pretty much of any kind. Spot had always been one for action.

Fish’s breathing hadn’t gotten much better. Where had he run from? Spot frowned. “You’s need ta breathe. What’s goin’ on? Why’d ya run all the way here?”

The younger boy was still breathing hard, but he choked out a few words. “Over Queens... Race....stabbed...”

Spot leapt to his feet, already on his way out to the street, thoughts sprinting through his head faster than he could even move. Race had to be okay. Nothing else was even an option. 

He didn’t know what could have happened, but before he did anything, he had to get Race to safety. The thought of Race no longer being here- no, that wasn’t an option. Race had to be okay. Spot needed him at his side and that was just going to have to be what happened. No alternative was okay.

Fish was breathing hard behind him, but Spot didn’t slow down on his quest to actually be able to get to Race on time. He didn’t know where he was going, but towards Queens would have to be good enough, and hopefully then he’d actually be able to get lucky.

Though, he doubted that much luck was around, because Race had gotten stabbed. Nothing else beyond that point mattered but he had to hurry. He had to be there for Racer.

Spot turned on another burst of speed that he didn’t know that he still had. He hadn’t run this fast in forever- he hadn’t had a reason to, but now was the most important reason he had.

If things weren’t going to be okay, he needed to be at Racer’s side. He had let him down. Spot might not know how, but there wasn’t a reason he could think of that wasn’t his fault that his boyfriend had gotten stabbed in his borough.

He skidded to a halt at an intersection, looking back over his shoulder at Fish, trying to gauge which direction was Race was. He ignored the surrounding pedestrians. They didn’t matter, and they could just leave him alone. The only things he had to worry about right now were about his boyfriend, who was lying around here somewhere, probably freaking dying.

Fish was still in the distance, and Spot found himself pacing, harsh rapid steps matching his breathing. He noticed that his hands were shaking, trembling, and he couldn’t remember when that had started. He just couldn’t afford to think about all this stuff now. Everything sucked but he just couldn’t stand it anymore. Race was stabbed. What was he supposed to even do with that? Everything going on, it was just impossible.

Spot blinked, and suddenly, Fish was in front of him, a tight grip on his shoulders. Fish was a few years younger than Spot, but already a few inches taller. His face was pale as he spoke, like he already had been speaking.

“-you okay? Spot? Spot? Are you okay?”

Spot suddenly found his mouth dry, and he didn’t know what to say.

“I- Yeah, I’s fine.”

Fish nodded, but he didn’t drop his hands from Spot’s shoulders. “You, uh, you were really weird there for a moment.”

“It’s uh- I’s good. Where’s Racer?”

The younger boy didn’t look like he believed him, but he didn’t say anything. “C’mon,” he said, before setting off toward one of the streets, Spot on his heels, even as if felt like he was stumbling like he hadn’t ever walked before.

They weren’t running anymore, but Spot could hardly think, other than moving after Fish, not wanting to think about the danger that Race was in. He had no idea what had happened, but he was still afraid. Nothing would be okay, not anymore, but he was just going to have to believe that it was.

At some point, Fish had grabbed Spot’s wrist, and was pulling him along, but it didn’t feel right. There was so much going on here, but he had to be ready. All of this stuff, it was just so hard, and he didn’t know what.

Things felt weird, but he had to keep on moving, to get to Race before it was too late, but he just couldn’t think about this stuff anymore. It couldn’t be too late, it just couldn’t be. Race had to be okay, right?

That was dumb. Of course he wasn’t okay- he had gotten stabbed.

When Spot saw a cluster of newsies, he took off, not having to wait for Fish anymore. He had no idea if it was okay, but this was just going to have to be enough. At this point, that was just going to have to be enough.

As the boys heard someone coming over, they looked up, and a few of them practically leapt away from the boy sprawled on the ground.

Spot rushed over, kneeling in front of the prostrate figure. Stringer, one of the boys Race played cards with regularly, was behind him, Race’s head on his lap. Race’s eyes were closed, and for a moment, the king of Brooklyn thought the absolute worst as he stared at the blade that was still sticking up from Race’s side, a hat and jacket pressed in around the wound, stabilizing the knife. Then Race’s eyes flew open, and when he caught sight of Spot, he smiled.

“Hey, Spotty.”

Spot’s hands were still shaking as he focused on the stab wound and the knife. He looked up at Stringer. “Who did this?”

“Hey!” Race said, sounding indignant. “Don’t yous wanna know if I’s won?”

Spot scowled down at his boyfriend. “You’s didn’t win. You’s got stabbed.”

“It was Queens. Ain’t know much what happened ‘cause I weren’t here at first, but Geo comes running up ta where I’s was selling and told me there was trouble with Queens and they had gone after ‘im. Then I’s comes here and Racer was lying here with a knife stickin’ in ‘im”

Geo was one of the littler newsies, but right now, Spot just couldn’t think about who he was selling with today, or even bother to figure out exactly what was going on. Race wasn’t okay, but at least he was still here, and Spot had to make sure he stayed that way.

“We’s gotta get ‘im back ta lodgin’ before we’s try ta take that knife out,” Spot said, his words coming out significantly more confident than he felt.

He moved himself into a squat and began working with Stringer to pull Race up into a seated position. Spot saw it happen moments before, “Race, don’t look at-“

Race was already looking at the knife and the hole in his chest. He lurched to the side, Spot barely catching him in time. Race groaned.

“C’mon, you’s can do this, Racer. We’s gotta get yous back to our lodgin’ and outta here.”

The boy was pale, but he nodded, biting his lip as the Brooklyn boys tried again, this time managing to get Race upright, even as he leaned heavily on Spot’s side. Stringer ducked under Race’s other arm to support him. It would be a long walk back.

Even though Race’s feet were on the ground, he was hardly supporting his own weight, which was hardly surprising since there was still a knife in him. Spot knew that he must be in significant pain, but Race said nothing. Spot knew Race though. The fact that he wasn’t saying anything at all spoke volumes. The wound had to be packed in enough for now.

In their relationship, Race was the chatterbox, but it was up to Spot to fill that role today. He needed Race to be okay. Maybe that was selfish, but right now, he didn’t care as long as his boyfriend would turn out okay. He still couldn’t find the words, things that around Race usually came easily.

It was hard to ignore the looks that the rest of his newsies were giving him, but he didn’t have time to worry about that now. Most of the boys knew that there was something going on anyway, and Spot could protect himself.

Obviously, he hadn’t done nearly as good a job protecting Racer, but he would have to change that because there was no way that he would ever allow anything like this to happen again. It just wasn’t an option.

By the time they actually got close to lodging, Race was all but dead weight. But he would be fine. Spot had to believe that.

They brought Race up to Spot’s bunk, and with a glare from Spot, the crowd dispersed. They didn’t need to be here for this. Spot wasn’t going to leave Race’s side, ideally never again, though he knew that was impossible. For now though, he’d support his boyfriend in any way that he possibly could.

Spot knew that he was hovering, as he let his boys who were far more ready to take care of a medical issue deal with Race’s side. Instead, he sat by Race’s head, squeezing his hand and trying to resist the urge to run his free hand through the other boy’s hair. He needed Race to be there for him during this about as much, maybe even more, than Race wanted or needed him here.

Once Race was bandaged and the other boys left, Spot got into his bunk beside Race, careful not to move the other boy. They had no idea how long it would take the boy to recover, but as long as Race was still here, then that was just going to have to be good enough. It was worth it.

Later, there would be time for the other issues. Spot was already imagining how satisfying it would be to punch whatever Queens kid did this to Race in the face. They’d have to deal with any potential fallout from Manhattan, especially since Spot hadn’t ordered anyone over there to tell them about Racer. But right now, all he needed was to have Racer at his side, knowing that he had survived. He would get through this, with Spot at his side, and at some point, that was enough.

**Author's Note:**

> I thought I had already posted this... oops. I might end up writing a loosely connected sequel to this when Jack comes over to Brooklyn and finds out about the stabbing, but that'll be a different fic in this series. Thanks for reading, and let me know if you have any cute Sprace angst prompts (or non angst I guess).


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